


Five First Christmases and Maybe One More

by agentsimmons



Series: Average. Ordinary. Everyday. [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Adopted Children, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Parents, Christmas, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, First Christmas, Gay Bruce Banner, Gay Tony Stark, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent Bruce Banner, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Science Husbands, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: 5+1 scenes taking place during each kid's first Christmas season with Tony and Bruce.





	Five First Christmases and Maybe One More

**Author's Note:**

> No matter what you celebrate this time of year or even if you don't celebrate anything at all, I hope that you all are well!

> _**I.** _

Bruce was startled when he heard a shatter followed by a soft whimper that quickly turned into a shrill exertion of lungs. He dropped the garland he'd been working on hanging and turned quickly, heart beating fast. Natasha was sitting on the floor at the base of the Christmas tree, face red and tears streaming down her face. Near her was the source of the sound, a porcelain ornament now in several pieces.

Bruce crossed the space rapidly and pulled his daughter into his arms, inspecting her for any cut or other injury. Satisfied that she was alright he began soothing her as best as he could.

If he had to venture a guess, the one-year-old must have disturbed the tree and was frightened by what had happened more than anything else. But he still made a mental note to take down any other of the more fragile ornaments that might shatter if she repeated the incident, all while he chastised himself for not keeping a better eye on her.

"Shh, shh," he cooed, "it's okay."

She babbled back at him, something that sounded like a strange mixture of English and Russian since the latter language had been the one she had heard for the first nearly-six-months of her young life. He repeated his coos in Russian. In the early days of bringing Natasha home he and Tony had figured out that speaking the language comforted her even further when she was fussy.

"What's wrong?" Tony's voice interjected.

Bruce turned around to see him looking at them in mild concern. He set down the boxes of decorations he'd gone to get and moved quickly over to them. Tony immediately noticed the broken ornament and the concern in his eyes doubled.

"Is she okay?" he asked as he stroked their daughter's hair in a gentle way that made Bruce's heart melt.

Natasha's little cries started to fade as her eyes drooped. It was almost time for her nap and it seemed the incident had drained what energy she had left.

"I think so," Bruce answered with a nod. "Just a little startled is all. Think you can pull off the other hazardous ones while I put her to bed?"

"Absolutely," Tony answered. He kissed Natasha on her forehead before Bruce carried her off.

It didn't take long for Bruce to get Natasha to fall asleep. As he'd suspected she was more than ready for a short nap after her small fright. Bruce indulged in a few quiet moments of watching her doze peacefully before returning to finish decorating with Tony.

When he reached the main room again Bruce found Tony standing in front of the tree, looking at it like he looked at one of the numerous projects in his workshop. Before he could ask what was wrong, Tony glanced over his shoulder at him and then back at the tree.

"Now that I've taken off _most_ of the fragile ornaments, the tree looks a little naked," Tony said. "Not that I'm judging the tree if it's into that," he added jokingly, "but it might not be very appropriate with a kid in the house."

Bruce snorted and shook his head. "We'll just have to move some of the ornaments around and throw some more plastic bulbs and tinsel up I suppose," he said as he searched through one of the boxes to see what they had left. He paused when something about Tony's comments struck him. "Wait, what do you mean _most_?"

"I didn't have the heart to take off the doves," he answered.

Bruce's eyes widened and his heart sank a little. "Oh." He hadn't even considered the ornament commemorating his and Tony's first Christmas together as partners, a pair of turtledoves. With a sigh he moved toward the tree. "Maybe just this year," he started, "and then—"

Bruce's thoughts were scattered when he reached Tony's side and his eyes fell on the branch just below their ornament. It was adorned by another single dove bearing Natasha's name and birthdate. His wide eyes could scarcely believe what they were seeing. He turned those wide eyes on Tony.

"I, uh, know I probably should have discussed it with you first, but you know how I like surprising you," Tony started tentatively. Bruce nodded slowly. "Well, I don't know why but it struck me one day that most babies have first Christmas ornaments. And even though we didn't have Natasha last Christmas, she still deserves to have one. But if you don't like it we can get another one or if you're pissed I didn't include you in—"

Bruce prevented Tony from going off on a ramble the best – and sometimes only – way he knew how.

"It's beautiful," he assured him, pulling back from the kiss but not very far. "I never even considered it. I'm glad you did and I'm okay that you surprised me."

"That's a relief," Tony said, sounding earnest. "I know it's kind of a special occasion for parents, but it's also a little different in our case since this is technically her second Christmas. I wasn't sure."

Bruce glanced back at the ornament and checked his feelings on the matter just in case. Maybe when Tony put it like that, he could understand why Tony might worry about not including him and Bruce could admit that he would have liked to be included. But the ornament was lovely and complemented their own so well, and it was such a pleasant surprise, that he decided he also liked that he hadn't been.

He looked back at Tony with a smile. "Just make sure you include me next time," he said.

Bruce kissed him again, not waiting for Tony to follow-up his initial wide-eyed reaction with a response.

 

> _**II.** _

Tony looked at Steve, looked at Bruce, looked back at Steve, and then back at Bruce before saying, "No."

"Yes," Bruce replied easily, and as if the issue was settled, tacked on, "Natasha, bring papa your red shoes." He pointed at Tony as he said it so that Natasha would know which papa he meant.

Tony watched as the three-year-old went over to her shoe rack and only paused for a brief moment before identifying the correct shoes. She grabbed them and held them up questioningly. Tony nodded at her and she brought them to him.

Smiling, Tony hoisted her up by one arm and carried her over to the small sofa that sat on her side of the nursery. Natasha sat perfectly still, making it easy for him to put the shiny, red dress shoes on her feet.

"There," he said in an appraising tone, "pretty red shoes for a pretty redhead." She answered him by kicking her feet back and forth and smiling. "Now if only we can convince other papa that Steve has a lot of pretty clothes to choose from too."

Tony glanced across the room at where Bruce was working on putting much tinier shoes on Steve's squirming feet. He could tell that Bruce had heard him and was deliberately ignoring him.

"Honestly, Bruce," Tony tried again, coming over to him and Steve, "he looks ridiculous." Bruce acknowledged him with a frown. "I don't mean it like that," Tony defended himself, feeling that it shouldn't even be necessary. " _He's_ adorable as hel—" He corrected himself since Natasha was in the room, "As all get out. But that outfit makes him look like an adorable _clown_. We can't do that to him."

Bruce sighed and finally spoke again. "I agree that it's a…" He paused as if searching for an appropriate word. "Unique sweater," he continued, "but I understand why your father thought it would be fitting."

"Fair point, but it's a _Christmas_ photo. People will think we're more patriotic than we are."

Bruce picked Steve up and held him as he met Tony's gaze. "I don't really care what people think."

"But you care what my father thinks," Tony countered, crossing his arms.

"No, Tony, that's not what this is about," Bruce argued with a shake of his head as he moved past him.

"Then what's it about, huh?" Tony asked skeptically as he turned to track his motion.

Bruce grabbed the baby carrier and set it on the sofa beside where Natasha still sat. He settled Steve down into it and from where he was Tony saw the way the five month old immediately turned his attention toward his older sister. She moved closer and started playing peek-a-boo with him. For a brief moment, Tony forgot what he was even upset about.

Bruce reminded him when he left their two kids and came back over to him, a sigh clearly held back behind his pursed lips. Even if he was still annoyed with Bruce's insistence on having Steve wear the hideous flag-inspired sweater that his grandfather had bought him, Tony felt some of that annoyance fade.

Gentler than before he asked, "What's it really about, Bruce?"

Bruce met his gaze. "It's about your father, but not the way you think," he said. "I don't care if he approves of me or of us. And I know he's tried hard to be civil in spite of…well, in spite of," he said vaguely. "But I do care about making sure his genuine attempts to include himself in our family are valued."

Tony blinked as his perspective shifted in the way it often did when Bruce made a reasoned point. "Oh."

Bruce nodded. "I want your father to know that gestures like that will always be welcome and appreciated. I want him to open our Christmas card and see that he's a part of this family."

"Whether he likes it or not?" Tony lifted an eyebrow.

Bruce's lips tilted upward at the edges. "Maybe a little," he confessed. "But, honestly, I hope that it makes him realize he _does_ like it."

Tony smiled and shook his head fondly. "How can I argue with that?"

"Well, you probably could," Bruce said, tone turning teasing, "considering you have enough of the same Stark stubbornness he does."

Tony snorted. "Guilty." Then, fondly, he leaned forward and said, "So I guess it's a good thing you're pretty stubborn yourself."

"Guilty," Bruce echoed with a smile that Tony promptly kissed.

Their kiss was almost as promptly interrupted when Steve started crying. They broke apart and looked across the room where Natasha had her hands on her ears and an annoyed grimace on her face.

With a chuckle Tony said, "Alright, let's go get this red, white, and blue monstrosity over with. But if Steve ever asks what we were thinking, you get to explain it to him," he added.

Bruce snorted. "Fair enough."

 

> _**III.** _

Bruce felt a tug on his pants and glanced down to see Steve looking up at him eagerly. "Daddy's 'bout to start," he swallowed, "start the story!"

"He is?" Bruce asked, feigning surprise. Steve nodded. "Then I guess I'd better hurry, huh?"

"Yeah! You gotta listen too!"

Bruce smiled at Steve's insistence and left the remaining dishes for later. "Alright, let's go." He let Steve drag him to the family room.

Once there, Steve let go and hurried over to the couch to settle into the cushion on Tony's right side, Natasha already settled into the crook of his left arm. Bruce smiled at the sight. He then decided to take a seat on the floor where Clint was amusing himself on his play mat. Clint squealed and clapped and then proceeded to hit him several times with the stuffed bear in his hand, his way of trying to share his toys.

Tony gave a chuckle before saying, "Alright, now that we're all here, Tony Stark Theater Presents: A Visit From Saint Nicholas."

He opened the picture book on his lap for both Natasha and Steve to see, although Bruce knew Tony had long ago memorized the text like he had. Natasha was well on her way since she mouthed the words along with Tony when he began:

"'It was the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugar-plums danced in their head.'"

"Daddy, what's a sugar-plum?" Natasha asked before Tony could continue. The inquisitive 7 year-old craned her neck upward to look at him.

Tony's eyes widened and it was clear to Bruce he was trying to find the right answer for her from his vast stores of knowledge. "Um," he puffed out his cheeks and then let out the air again, "it's, uh… I think it's what they used to call candy a long time ago." He glanced at him and Bruce nodded in confirmation. "So the kids are dreaming of all of the sugars and sweets they'll get as gifts the next morning."

"Oh. Okay."

Tony smiled and started again. "'And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my—'"

"Don't you mean papa?" Steve interjected this time. The confused, and slightly distressed, expression on his face told them that it was a genuine question.

"Since I'm telling the story, you're absolutely right, champ," Tony replied breezily with a smile. "In my case I would definitely be talking about me and papa wouldn't I?" Steve nodded. Bruce shared a smile with him before he started again. "And papa in his, uh, pajamas," he improvised, "'and I in my cap had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.'"

Bruce couldn’t help himself and laughed. "Just your cap, huh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Obviously," Tony said with a smirk, "that's what it means by settling our brains." Bruce shook his head and returned to playing with Clint while Tony continued. "'When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter' after throwing on a robe," he improvised again and Bruce snorted. "Away to the window I flew like The Flash," Steve giggled beside him, "'tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.' The sash was bad. Food poisoning isn't a joke, kiddos."

"No, daddy said it's another word for part of the window, remember?" Natasha corrected him emphatically. She'd asked before why the person was throwing up and Bruce had explained to her the meaning as best as he could.

"Oh, right, right," Tony replied as if put in his place.

He then continued on with the story, infusing quips and gesticulations here and there as he did much to their children's amusement. Even Clint stopped playing and started paying attention to the lively story-telling for a moment before crawling over excitedly and trying to join in by using Tony's legs to pull himself up to stand, holding onto them to keep himself steady.

"Clint wants to listen too," Natasha said and helped him up to sit in her lap.

Bruce smiled at the sight before deciding to join the rest of his family on the couch. He started to sit on the couch beside Steve, but Steve decided he wanted to sit in his lap instead. Bruce scooted closer to Tony so Steve could still see the book.

"'He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.'" Tony tickled Clint's belly for emphasis, earning a happy squeal of laughter that was music to Bruce's ears.

"Don't you mean Jell-o?" Steve asked, sounding confused.

"Yep, Jell-o," Tony answered instead of explaining the difference. "'He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.' Because I'm a jerk who laughs at chubby people. But thankfully Santa loves me anyways. 'A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger inside of his nose—'"

"ASIDE! It says _ASIDE_!" Natasha corrected him. Prompted by her outburst, Clint screeched his agreement.

"Okay, ASIDE of his nose," Tony repeated with a. put-upon sigh, "'and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and _away_ they all flew like the down _of a thistle_. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight… Take it away, princess."

Natasha exclaimed, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Clint clapped and spoke a string of ecstatic gibberish, squirming until Tony pulled him into his arms for Natasha's sake, chuckling as he did. "Translation: The End."

 

> _ **IV.** _

"All I want for Christmas is a full night's sleep," Tony mumbled in a sing-song tone as he rocked Jake back and forth.

"Maybe there's still time to send a quick email to Santa," Bruce suggested playfully, coming into the nursery with a bottle for their youngest son. "I mean, he probably hasn't reached this quadrant yet."

"I'm just tired enough to try it. JARVIS, send an email to Santa for me and ask him for a full night's sleep." He took the bottle from Bruce and started feeding the four-month-old in his arms. "And maybe a large stockpile of formula for our hungry boy's insatiable appetite."

Bruce snorted softly. "Ignore that command, JARVIS."

"Yes, sir," the AI intoned.

"You sure?" Tony queried. "Because formula might come in handy if he keeps up this routine of crying for food every couple of hours."

"Clint had a pretty healthy appetite too," Bruce reminded him. "He just spoiled us with his preference for eating in the afternoon and evening."

Tony smiled at the recollection. "That's because little lazybones wanted to sleep most of the day."

Bruce sighed melodramatically and looked across the room at their slumbering son. He was passed out like a log in spite of Jake's earlier fussiness and their conversation. Tony doubted even Christmas morning would get him out of bed earlier than usual since he didn't really have too much of an understanding of it just yet.

"I'm glad he hasn't outgrown it completely yet," his husband admitted. "Otherwise we'd never get a break."

Tony snorted in understanding. The almost-three-year-old had made it his mission to show them just what terrible-two's meant in a way neither Natasha nor Steve ever had. He had a special penchant for trying to climb, jump, and tumble anywhere and everywhere.

Tony attempted to pull the bottle away from Jake's lips only for him to latch on harder. Shaking his head he said, "Maybe he'll grow up to be an athlete."

"If you want to go to bed, I can take over," Bruce offered.

"And stiff you like that?" Tony asked incredulously, glancing at him. "What kind of husband do you think I am?"

"A tired one?" Bruce answered his hypothetical question. "But honestly, I don't mind."

"Thanks, babe, but I don't mind either. Steve and Natasha be clamoring for us to get up soon anyway. And who knows. In a couple of months I might even miss this." He looked back down at Jake with a smile.

"I know I will," Bruce said, tone sentimental. "The time goes too fast." He glanced away at Clint again, probably because their second youngest would be three in two weeks.

"You know what," Tony amended, "I think I'll send that email to Santa and ask him for some kind of Christmas magic so our kids grow up slower. Natasha is not allowed to turn ten next year. I forbid it."

Bruce sighed. "If only it could be done."

"I’m an engineer." Tony waved away Bruce's doubt. "I can do anything."

Bruce smiled softly and shook his head. "Well, if you can figure out a way, let me know. Until then, we should probably stick with making the most of every moment. So I think I'll go put on a pot of coffee and start on a huge Christmas breakfast."

Tony smiled at the idea. It had been a couple of years since Bruce had been able to make a big breakfast like he liked to do.

Noticing the bottle was empty, he pried it away from Jake's lips and handed it over to Bruce. He then lifted Jake to his shoulder and started to pat him on his back. 

"Don't think I won't try," he called quietly after Bruce as he left. "But that doesn't mean I can't multitask," he added when he was gone.

Starting with relishing every lost minute of sleep spent caring for his kids instead.

 

> _**V.** _

Steve stuck his head into the kitchen and said, "Dad, there's a package! Is it safe to bring it to you?"

Bruce glanced away from where he was stirring some chicken soup on the stove and looked at his oldest son. "That's a strange question," he said bluntly.

"Well, it's December now so maybe it's a Christmas present you don't want anyone to know about," Steve explained with a shrug.

"I see." Bruce glanced at his watch to confirm it was indeed the first of December. "It's safe," he then said. Before he could tell him to just leave it where the rest of the mail usually was placed, Steve ran off again.

Bruce chuckled as he turned off the stove and moved the soup pot from the hot burner. He moved to get a bowl. When he turned back around Steve was already returning into the kitchen with aforementioned package in hand, studying it carefully.

"What is it?" Steve asked, setting it down on the island.

As he passed by, Bruce stopped to look at it. "Oh," he answered, noting the address, "it's Peter's ornament."

"That means we should put up the Christmas tree! Can we do it tonight?" Steve asked, looking hopeful.

Bruce shook his head. "Sorry. We can't put it up without Clint and he's not in any condition to get out of bed right now."

"But what if he stays sick until Christmas?" Steve queried.

Bruce chuckled as he returned to the stove to ladle some soup into the bowl.

"Well, that's very unlikely," he answered, "but we would figure something out before then."

"Alright." Steve's tone was resigned. "Guess I wouldn't like it if I was sick and you put up the tree without me. But can we at least put up _some_ of the decorations?"

Bruce considered the request for a minute before offering in compromise, "We can dig out the boxes of decorations for your rooms and if you want to decorate your bedroom tonight you can. How does that sound?"

"Great!" Steve cheered and hurried out of the kitchen.

Bruce shook his head, smiling fondly, as he turned carefully with the bowl of soup for Clint and carried it over to the island. While he waited for it to cool a little before making the trek back to Clint's room, Bruce decided to open the package and take a quick peak at the ornament. He had to admit he was just as impatient as Steve was.

He removed the protective Styrofoam and then unfolded the bubble wrap surrounding it for an extra layer of protection. Very carefully he lifted the delicate ornament to admire it. Just like his brothers' and sister's, Peter's ornament was a beautiful dove inscribed with his name and date of birth.

The last ornament to complete their perfect little flock. The wistful thought flew through his head only to turn into something bittersweet as it made its way to his heart and got waylaid as a lump in his throat.

Tears pooled in his eyes before he could check them. He very quickly, albeit gently, set the ornament back down onto the bubble wrap, too overwhelmed to trust himself to hold onto it, while many past Christmases played out like a faded movie for his mind's eye to see. The lump climbed higher and he choked on it as the tears came more freely than before.

He started to rebuke himself for being emotional over something so silly, but before he was able to regain his composure Tony came into the kitchen and found him in his ridiculous state.

"What's wrong?" Tony was beside him before he could answer, hands clasping his shoulders soothingly.

"Nothing." Bruce shook his head. "Just something stupid. Well," he corrected on second-thought, "not _stupid_. But a little silly and uncalled for."

"Bruce," Tony said his name in a matter-of-fact way, "you are one of the most practical people I've ever known. If you're crying there has to be a legitimate reason for it."

Bruce gave a soft snort at Tony's reasoning, the sound a little uglier than usual thanks to his tears. "Well," he said, caressing the ornament with his thumb, "I do have my exceptions."

"Hey, Peter's ornament came," Tony said, noticing. "So, happy tears then?" he guessed.

"Not quite," Bruce admitted. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I was just thinking about all of the others and how … how this will be the last Christmas we'll put one of these ornaments up on the tree for the first time."

There was no response for a long moment and then an enlightened, "Oh." It was shortly followed by the familiar indication that Tony was moved as well: several aborted attempts to speak. "Right, because… Yeah, that's… I guess…" He cleared his throat too and finally managed, "I guess you're right. Although, there's always a chance."

Tony didn't elaborate, but Bruce didn't need him to. They hadn't completely eliminated the possibility of making their family even bigger, but they had agreed that five was a good number and that they were at an age now where any more kids would be a very big undertaking. Already they would be nearly 60 before Peter turned 18. The chance was very, _very_ slim.

"There's always a chance," he agreed just the same.

 

> _ **+1** _

Tony listened to the cacophony of conversation taking place in the vehicle as it sat in park, waiting for its last passenger to arrive.

Bruce was talking to Steve about the grade he got on his Pearl Harbor project.

Natasha and her best friend Laura were talking about plans for the winter break since it was the last day of the semester.

Clint was bouncing between playing a video game with his best friend Phil and trying to get Laura to notice him, causing Natasha to say finally, "Stop it, weirdo or I'll twist your arm so hard you cry like a baby again."

That, in turn, caused Bruce to pause listening to Steve in order to admonish both of them. "You will do no such thing, Tasha," he said sharply.

"But—" she started to protest, but Bruce didn't let her finish.

"But, Clint, if you don't stop harassing your sister and her friend, we'll drop off Phil at home and you can spend the night grounded instead of having a sleepover."

The entire vehicle became silent at once. Tony had to admit it was still awe-inspiring how Bruce could manage to restore order no matter how many times he'd seen it done over the years.

Peter saw his opportunity and whined loudly, "I'm hungry. Where's Thor?"

Tony glanced at Bruce, noticing his look of concern, before asking, "Clint, did you see your brother?"

"Nope."

"I did, Mr. Stark," Phil offered, calm and well-mannered as always. "He was with the new kid that's here on scholarship."

"New kid?" Bruce echoed, fishing for more details.

"Yeah. They're in the same class," Clint supplied further, "and I guess they're best friends now or something."

"Huh. Wonder why he hasn't mentioned anything," Tony said thoughtfully. He glanced out of the window for any sign of the eight-year-old.

"Probably because the kid's a brat and always getting in trouble," Clint replied. "He's only been here like three weeks and everyone says he'll probably be kicked out before the end of January."

"Maybe we should go see what's going on," Bruce said.

"Good idea," Tony agreed. "Natasha, Laura, you're in charge. We'll be right back," he told them as he turned off the vehicle and got out. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," he reassured his husband once they were headed toward the main office of the school.

"No, I know. I mean, I'm sure his teacher would have told us if there's a problem. And… I don't want to tell him who he can and can't be friends with."

Tony nodded. "Of course. He might be a little obstinate sometimes, but we can trust him. I'm sure this kid isn't as bad as Clint says if Thor likes him."

Before they could discuss it any further, the door of the school opened and Thor emerged. They stopped their trek and waited as he hustled toward them, strands of his long hair flying loose from his loose ponytail due to the December wind.

"Hey, kiddo," Tony greeted him first. "We were starting to get a little worried. You're usually not this late coming out."

"Sorry," he said. "My new friend was really upset because he got a call from his social worker right before dismissal. I guess he's getting moved from his current foster family so he has to wait for the social worker to come pick him up. But he's okay now. Though," Thor paused, "I think he's still not happy."

"That's understandable," Tony hazarded.

"What's your new friend's name?" Bruce asked.

It was an innocent question, natural even, but Tony heard a certain tone underlying it that belied more than simple curiosity.

"Luke."

"Luke," Bruce repeated. "Well, what do you say you introduce us to Luke and then maybe you can ask him if he'd like to spend Christmas with us?"

Tony's eyes widened slowly as the prior tone suddenly became clear.

"Can he!?" Thor asked, eyes just as wide if not wider.

"Well," Bruce hedged, "I suppose it will be up to his social worker, but if she says it's okay then sure."

"Awesome!" Thor cheered. "Let me go get him!" He turned and hurried back into the school.

"Well," Tony said after they were alone again, "I hope Thor's instincts on this kid are right or we're going to have our work cut out for us."

"Yeah, that's— Wait." Bruce turned and looked at him with a furrowed brow.

Tony chuckled. "I've been with you for twenty years. Give me a little credit for knowing how your breathtaking brain works by now. The moment Thor said social worker you decided we should try to give this kid a home."

"I…"

Bruce glanced toward the school. His face softened and a smile touched his face. Tony followed his gaze and saw Thor returning with a thin, pale, dark-headed boy about his height, one of the vice principals following behind. The boy looked somewhat untrusting as they approached and definitely a little rough around the edges in spite of how fair and almost other-worldly he appeared – much like Thor sometimes did in Tony's opinion.

Bruce met his gaze again, a question there. One that said, "Do you think we should?"

Tony answered it with a nod and mirrored Bruce's responding smile. They turned in sync towards Thor when he reached them.

"Luke, these are my dads," Thor introduced them. "Dads, this is my new friend, Luke."

"Hi, Luke," Tony took the initiative in returning the introduction. "I'm Tony and this is Bruce. We're always glad to meet one of our son's friends. Thor asked us if you could come spend the night," he fibbed just in case the kid thought they were feeling sorry for him, "and we're totally cool with it if you want."

The boy blinked several times and looked as though he didn't quite believe Tony's fib. Or maybe he was used to that sort of thing and saw through it. But then he turned his askance look toward Thor who met it with an eager, wide smile and his suspicion faltered.

"I," he hesitated, "I would have to ask my social worker and the people at the home." His hesitation melted even further as he nodded and then looked back at them. "But I think I would like that."

"Well, we would love to have you," Bruce offered. "So, if you want to give your social worker our number to reach out to us, we'll talk to her about it."

That little bit of effort on their part to make it happen seemed to do the trick and finally Luke smiled, albeit slowly as if it wasn't a common occurrence. Even if something told him it would still be a challenge, Tony had a feeling that Thor's instincts were right.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. For a timeline these take place in 2004, 2006, 2010, 2012, 2017, and 2020.   
> 2\. Peter's ornament scene is supposed to be a bit of a small companion to _The Santa Thing_ , explaining a little bit further why Bruce was sad about maybe not having a photo with Santa for Peter's first Christmas like they did with the others (minus Natasha technically since it was her second Christmas).  
> 3\. I was not planning on the Loki thing, but somehow it went there before I could stop it and I'm still reeling at the unexpected development tbh.


End file.
